Dystopia
by AntebellumHope
Summary: Donatello bit his lip and reached out to touch the blanket in which Leonardo had wrapped the body. Taking the shovel from Michelangelo, Leo slowly and unwillingly said his final goodbye.
1. Chapter 1

The dark congregation of familiar faces gathered around the quiet earth.* Rain pitter-pattered into the ground, turning it to a sticky muck, and the shovel leaning against the decaying tree slid down, down, down at an acute angle before finally hitting the mire with a muted thump. He could hear the sniffs of the others trying to swallow their tears.

"Bye, Sensei," he murmured.

The gaping hole filled by the corpse seemed to say _Don't worry; I'll look after him_ in a kindly voice reminiscent of fairy tale villains. Mud was already seeping through the robe and dirtying the carefully washed body. Slowly, surreally, shovelful after shovelful of dirt plopped on the grave until finally their beloved master, father, and friend was naught but an unmarked grave.

_And here it ends_, he thought.

Casting a surreptitious eye around the small procession, he saw Raphael glaring at Leonardo through his good eye and clinching his fist in his coat pocket. Michelangelo wondered briefly if Raph was making obscene gestures at their brother or tightening his grip on a smuggled carton of cigarettes.

April and Casey were the first to leave, no doubt to retake command of the rebellion and fight even harder through the pain of their greatest loss yet.

_And then there were three._

He sniffed to hide the feeling of cynicism that washed over him as he remembered the day they "buried" Donatello. He had thought then _And then there was one_.

One family.

One clan.

One pillar of strength and support.

_One crock of bull._

They became that day what they were now: separated, mindless entities trying to make it through Hell.

Raphael glanced at him, then quickly turned his head. Raph had always been able to read his little brother like an open book. He was playing with whatever was in his pocket again and soon bowed one last time to his master and father and disappeared into the night. Leonardo gazed at him until long after the shadows devoured him. He squeezed Michelangelo's shoulder, held a long bow to Splinter, then slowly and deliberately walked in the direction opposite the path Raph had taken.

And then it was just him.

He felt his shoulders heave in a deep sigh, his body unfamiliar with the absence of companions. The freshly toiled dirt was blurring with the untouched, and the world was already forgetting what it had taken. Suddenly gripped by the panic that he might one day be unable to find Splinter, he scoured the clearing for a piece of bark or scrap metal or anything that he could carve with relative ease. The previous day's storms had thrown limbs everywhere, and he soon found one that seemed to be made for his purpose.

Whipping out a knife, he knelt and swiftly cut the letters S P L I N T E R into the soft wood. He heaved it into the ground between the old and new dirt, just above where Splinter's head lay. The mist polished the wooden marker, giving it an almost regal appearance. Michelangelo looked up at the stars looking down at him through the thick cloud cover.

_Look after him, guys. Make a good spot for him so he can watch over us. We're gonna need it._


	2. Chapter 2

He wasn't sure how long he'd been clenching his teeth on his jaw, but the salty taste of blood snapped him out of his daze. Swallowing a couple of times, he picked up the shovel from where it had fallen. He didn't want to do this. He shouldn't have to do this. Not now. Not ever. He wasn't sure why he had held onto the childish belief that his father was invincible.

_It is the nature of a good heart to hope_. Splinter had been so proud of him.

The shovel bit into the soggy ground with the force of his despair. Slowly he bent, lifted, and dumped pile after pile of crumbling earth into his master's final resting place. He heard Michelangelo whisper a final farewell, and he could feel resentment rolling off of Raphael in waves. He sighed and examined his work, carefully avoiding the latter's gaze. He did not want to have that fight here.

Casey led April away, back to the fighting. He draped a protective arm around her, and when he glanced back at their friends, Leo could see his determination to take down the Foot. He heard Mikey sniffing and almost touched him. Almost. But his youngest brother had changed a lot in recent years, and as much as the big brother in Leonardo wanted to make the world better for him, he just couldn't. Raphael had been playing for a while with the lighter Leo knew he kept on him at all times. Raph's coat shuffled as he took a step toward the grave and bowed low.

_Huh_.

Leo hadn't thought him capable of such respect. And then he was gone. Leo could just make out his form hunkered beside the one tree on the grounds that wasn't thoroughly contaminated with alien pollutants. Although Leo wasn't sure how much longer that could be said as he saw the glowing orange tip of a cigarette. Raph half-turned around as if aware of Leo's gaze. They stared at each other. Once brothers with an unshakable bond, now two strangers. It may have been a trick of the moonlight, but he could have sworn he saw that defiant head dip, those proud shoulders shaking. And suddenly himself again, Raph flashed him the rudest gesture he knew and vanished.

He himself knew the time for mourning had passed. That was not to say he would not feel the absence of his father every day of the rest of his life, for he knew he would, but rather, he knew that life was calling him to move on.

_I will honor you, Father, and I will try to reach Michelangelo and Raphael._

Leo did finally give Mikey's shoulder a quick squeeze of encouragement and brotherly affection. He bowed to Splinter and looked down the path that led back to the camp. The path that Raph had taken. A twang of guilt caught him squarely in the chest as he forced himself away from the base and into the city. Away from his dark stranger.

He told himself he was just going to look around for a bit, take stock of Shredder's forces and find supplies. The smiths needed more metal anyway. And then he would talk to Raph.

_Well, perhaps I should check on the Little Clan first. I_ have _neglected their training_.

After all, he didn't want his students to slack in their discipline.

_And then you'll talk to Raph, right?_

The stars snickered at him from afar, daring him to lie again.

_I will. And we'll work this out...and he'll stop blaming me and...and..._

And he could never quite finish his thought over the raucous laughter in the sky.


	3. Chapter 3

The plastic sheath of the lighter had warmed up considerably in the minutes he spent turning it over and over again. He really needed a smoke, and it was making him antsy. He just wanted this done. The rain was soaking into his jacket, and the chill was not improving his mood. He set a level glower on his oldest..._brother_. As if feeling the venom seething from his pores, Leo kept his head ducked and his gaze on his sad task.

_We coulda saved him, Leonardo._

_You don't know that, Raphael._

How many times had they been over this? If Leo had just left him and got Splinter, tonight would have been spent sparring and meditating not at the edge of a makeshift grave. Raph shut out the sniffling and the tears of his comrades. He shut out the sickening scraping of the shovel against the earth. He really needed a cigarette.

As soon as April and Casey left, he saw his opportunity to get away. Flipping the lighter in his pocket over again, he hesitantly took a step toward his father.

_See ya on the other side, Sensei._

Quickly he bowed to hide the sudden, hot stinging in his eye and fled. He ran until he could not see that horrid reminder of what the world was becoming. The urge to pull out the lighter overpowered him, and he patted his coat down in search of a cigarette. The relief he was anticipating with the first puff did not come. Resting his weight on the balls of his feet, he sank into a squat and scanned the clearing. Leo was watching him. He could see him standing there, a dark form mired in misery.

_I miss you_.

The thought came unbidden and cracked what was left of his heart. A couple of tears spilled over from his good eye, his shoulders convulsing under the weight of his anguish. And then his anger, his drug, swelled up and smothered his sorrow. He caught Leo's eye, gave him the coarsest sign he knew, and stormed back to the camp.

Unaware of where his feet were taking him, he found himself in the room he and Leonardo shared. Tasting the bile in his throat as he thought of having to live with the one who took his father from him, he threw what few possessions he had in a bag that may or may not have been his. A carton of cigarettes, twin sai, a book, a pillow - all furiously shoved into the knapsack. Another stupid, unwanted tear rolled off his cheek. As he brushed it away, his finger feathered over the stitches that held the left eye-hole shut. He paused, reliving the hour he awoke with only one eye.

_Mikey handed him his mask. He noted the clumsy patch job and smiled._

_"Thanks, bro." He called after him._

_Michelangelo's look bordered on disgust. "Thank Leo._"

Rapahel tore the mask away and ripped open the hole. With all the finesse of a bulldozer, he popped each seam and laid the pieces of twine on Leo's bed.

_Get outta my life, Leo. Just GO_.

Unsure of his next move, he hefted the bag onto his back and headed off into the park. If he had to stay at the base, he needed a few days away first to convince himself not to kill the dark stranger who had once been his closest confidant. Twisted tree trunks, barren and sullied, hid his view of the night sky. Oh, he knew the stars were there. The clouds had parted, and the diamond-wove fabric of the midnight empyrean was becoming visible.

He sighed and futilely tried to rub the tension out of his neck.

_What am I doing?_ He asked the heavens. No reply was forthcoming, save for empty echoes.

_Get outta my life, Leo._

_What am I doing?_

_I miss you._


	4. Chapter 4

He'd forgotten how cold the winters in the city were. A biting, unforgiving cold. The trees stretched their claws to the sky as if begging the clouds to take back the drizzle now floating across the land. Mud birthed of the storms stuck to his feet as he followed the procession. They had all been silent on the trek.

_Come away now._

_No, not yet_.

He bit his lip and reached out to touch the blanket in which Leonardo had wrapped the body. The rain had soiled it, and the musky smell assaulted his nostrils. With a grunt, he and Leo gave the open grave an occupant. Taking the shovel from Michelangelo, Leo slowly and unwillingly said his final goodbye.

April stilled when Casey gently squeezed her hand. Her eyes were red and swollen, and he was certain that the gray streak of hair she was playing with hadn't been there the last time he had seen her. He put his arms tightly around her and nearly groaned. He had forgotten how good it felt to hold her. Pressing his lips to her forehead, he whispered, "Think of me every once in a while."

He watched as they left together. She might have just lain a hand on her cheek, where moments earlier his hand been. Tears spilt on to his cheeks, blurring his vision. It hurt. It hurt so much to watch them - all of them - leaving. Raph was standing beside him, lost in mourning. Don gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and watched his hand fall away as his brother abruptly bolted from the graveside.

_Come away now._

The pull was getting stronger. He felt the pinpricks of light on his skin, each one becoming a memory. He gazed after them, reliving joy and sorrow and everything in between. The bond that they had shared as family, as clan, as warriors had brought him back one last time. Over time, blow after blow weakened it until it was but a loose thread. No one seemed to notice or care but him. They were so disjointed, so alone now.

And then suddenly, he was angry with them. How could they not fight this? How could they just surrender everything they stood for, everything they fought for? This severed lifeblood stained their hands with grief and malice. Hatred pulsed through their hearts like a poison, and he felt it. He saw it. In the way they spoke to each other, heck, even how they looked at each other.

_Why?_

He sat back against the wooden marker that had been hastily erected. A familiar hand reached out into his darkness and patted his shoulder. Through his tears, he saw their father looking down at him.

"My son, my son." He pulled him into a fierce embrace. "You have not changed."

The corners of his mouth upturned briefly. "Nor have you, Sensei."

"What is it like?" Splinter eagerly put aside the cloak of the master to become the pupil. For a moment, at least.

"It's…" Donatello's hand moved in the air, opening and closely like he was trying to pick out the right word. "...it's...free."

There was no other way to describe the release. Free from ailments, from pain. Free from happiness, from frivolity. There was just light and sound and shadow and movement. Just existence in its purest, most unadulterated form. Perhaps he would have moved on and seen what wonders lay beyond the heavens, but something called him back.

_Come away now._

The whispers traveled over the land and ruffled the robe Splinter was wearing. He shut his eyes, listening to the music that was both life and death, love and heartache.

"It's tempting, isn't it?"

His master's head bobbed up and down peacefully. "Have you ever been there, my son?"

Don chewed on his bottom lip for a while and glanced at Michelangelo, who had collapsed at the edge of the clearing. His baby brother had exhausted himself from crying and had fallen into an uneasy sleep. It was odd to see the carefree face so world weary. "I...I could have gone. I have wanted to, but…" _But I didn't want to abandon you._

"I understand. But there is little we can do but torment ourselves here."

_Come away now._

Yes.

_Be free of this._

Please.

His father faded into the mist raining down from the Heavens. If he had been watching closely enough, he would have seen tendrils of ethereal beauty and sorrow collecting on his face and arms like so many teardrops. Heart wrenching, he stood. It was time.

_Keep my love._

And he dissolved back into the tears of the stars.


End file.
